Perilous Peaches
by natalieashe
Summary: Q was captured during a mission as a result of Bond's mistake. Now they're back home and Bond is so overprotective it's driving Q crazy. Not even a visit to the supermarket is easy.


Bond cocked it up. He knew it, and Q knew it, but Q being Q didn't hold a grudge. He wasn't hurt too badly, just roughed up a bit and had his favourite glasses broken but since extracting him from the basement of the Manchester townhouse Bond had become his shadow. The man was literally never more than two feet from his person, and while the constant hand-holding was cute, his bathroom breaks were hell.

Q had considered shooting him in the foot and running away but Eve had convinced him to take advantage of Bond's proximity and remorse. Now Q was aching pleasantly from an imaginative array of sexual favours as well as the lingering bruises if his injuries.

The trip to Tesco was a Bad Idea with capital letters and flashing font. Q and Bond were agreed on the fact, if not the reason. The rogue agent had escaped but Bond was convinced he had seen someone following them so wanted to keep Q safe at home. Q just wanted something decent to eat that wasn't Coco Pops or fish fingers.

Q reached for a trolley. Bond was there before him, checking it over for sharp edges or explosive devices. Q just shook his head and stood patiently until the agent confirmed it was harmless.

"You push. I need to keep my hands free."

"Yes you do. To pick things off shelves and place them in the trolley. _No one_ attacks in a supermarket."

Bond ignored him, scanning the other customers, eyes eventually falling on the security guard. Military bearing but overweight. Keen eyes that were now fixed suspiciously on the blond muscular man who was throwing him menaces. They each took a wary step towards each other before the dark curly haired boy behind the blond shoved the trolley into his arse.

"Will you stop upsetting security? We aren't even in the building yet."

"I'm assessing the risk."

"He doesn't even pose a risk to a shoplifting granny, now come on or I go without you."

Q stalked off, plucking items from shelves left and right, expertly weaving around the other shoppers. Bond darted behind shelves and displays, keeping a beady eye on the security guard who was pretending not to follow them.

"He's following us," he hissed over Q's shoulder, making the younger man jump and drop the packet of dried spaghetti he was holding.

"Of course he is. You might as well be wearing a t-shirt saying 'Suspicious Inc'. Extra garlic or Chunky Veg?"

"What?" Bond ducked behind a shelf, peering out at Q who was holding up two types of sauce. "Oh that one. The jar fits more precisely in your hand so it will be more effective as a missile." Q frowned, weighing both jars in his hands, checking the way they felt in his palms. Bond was correct. With a shrug he replaced the Chunky Veg and selected another Extra Garlic.

They rounded the corner into fresh produce. Q turned to ask Bond a question. Bond wasn't there. A moment later the agent rolled across the aisle ahead of him and popped up behind a display of oranges. "What the hell-?"

Bond was gesturing frantically at the far side of the produce section, trying to draw Q's attention to the woman inspecting bananas. Q made the universal gesture for 'what the fuck are you talking about?' at the same time as mouthing the exact same words under his breath. A small giggle at his elbow made him glance down.

A pair of adorable brown eyes stared back, almost lost under an unruly black fringe. "You said a bad word," the small child grinned gleefully.

"Hm, you would too if you had to live with him."

"Is he your boyfriend? He's pretty dumb," it asked.

"Pretty _and_ dumb," Q agreed, rolling his eyes and pushing the trolley slowly towards his partner who was trying to blend in with the oranges.

Bond's attention had meanwhile switched to the tiny potential assassin with whom Q had fallen into serious conversation. Three and a half feet tall, wild hair, indeterminate sex, carrying a pink gun. Wait, what? _Gun!_ Bond slid along the aisle on his knees, skidding to a halt by the startled pair with his Walther held in a steady grip. "Drop it," he commanded.

"Cool!" said the kid at the same time Bond's head rocked back from the slap of Q's hand.

"Put that away now, you idiot," he whispered savagely. His voice may be quiet but Bond paled.

"Swap you?" said the kid. "Mine goes pop and everything. Does yours?"

"Are you trying to kill my friend?" Bond demanded, dropping the gun low so as not to terrify the customers.

"No, it's a toy, _obviously_. He really _is_ dumb isn't he?" the kid looked up at Q who decided he really liked the odd little boy-girl. He chuckled at Bond's disgruntled face.

"Just trying to keep you safe. No need to be rude," he muttered, hiding the Walther away just as a parental hand reached for the child and guided it away ignoring its excited chatter about the man with the _real_ gun.

Bond had moved down the line of produce and was now fixated on a woman in a flimsy summer dress and sandals. "She has nowhere to conceal an offensive weapon, but if you must check her out please return with a bag of carrots and some onions," Q smiled sweetly, heading for the salad.

After a few moments his shadow hadn't reappeared. Q expected to see him chatting up summer-dress but he had only moved a few steps. He was pretending to test peaches for ripeness while clearly not watching another woman push her trolley up and down.

"If you keep squeezing those peaches like that they'll expect you to buy them dinner."

"It's her!" He dropped to his knees, hands still fondling the fruit absently.

"I don't think it is, it's just some poor woman trying to buy food without a nutter stalking her."

"I assure you Q, that is Agent Keen, and she has been following us since we first entered the shop. And I am not a nutter, for the record, I am a highly skilled double-oh agent."

"Says the man groping fruit who just threatened a six year old child."

Q turned away towards cereals when there was a pop like a fizzy drinks bottle exploding and something wet and slimy hit his face. Red goo dripped down his glasses and Q swayed on his feet at the sudden realization he might be losing his brains. More pops and bangs, lots of screaming and Bond yelling "Get down you stupid idiot!" before bodily leaping on him and driving him under the potatoes. "Stay there!"

"My head is bleeding," Q said dazed.

Bond leaned forward and licked him from chin to forehead. "Watermelon," he grinned, before rolling out from under the spuds to fire at the rogue agent behind the pineapples. Bullets flew and juice and pulp sprayed between the battling agents. Out of the corner of his eye Bond saw a figure creeping along the far side of the aisle. The security guard gave some weird combination of hand-signals that Bond hadn't a clue how to interpret but took to mean that he was trying to help in some manner. The next moment a coconut sailed through the air and hit the surprised female agent on the back of the neck. It wasn't enough to knock her out but both men pounced and within moments the villain was apprehended.

Half an hour later she was handed over to MI6. Bond was smug. Q was sticky and had broken his second pair of favorite glasses. They sat like heroes in the supermarket café while two members of staff completed the shopping on their behalf.

"What shall we have for dinner?" Bond asked.

"Anything but fruit salad," groaned Q.


End file.
